In a world of heathens, I am the first and foremost non-believer, but I think a solid and deeply restrictive set of religious beliefs would come in handy. Let's say I want to believe, I just can't seem to do it.
In my never ending quest for spiritual fulfillment, I make frequent stops in the ditches of depravity. Call them reality checks, call them detours on my heavenly path, call them whatever you want, just don't call them off.
On the heels of visiting the re-formed and now collapsed Yuki Spa (which itself has now been folded into Salon 59, which is fitting in that both of them rose from the ashes of Yuki...which rose from the ashes of 22 Spa...which rose from the ashes of VIP Spa...which rose from the ashes of Gold Spa...sensing a trend here?) I decided to visit Salon 59.
Any place with this sort of bloodline is clearly at a disadvantage. For starters, the place will always be compared to places and joints that exist only in memory and as such were inevitably "better" than this one. Nothing is ever as good as something that you can remember any way you want. Second, well...what happened to reduce all those prior incarnations to rubble? Given the nature of the services being offered it ain't hard to guess. That little air of risk hangs in the mist over every new incarnation.
As usual, I walked into the place as a nobody. The entrance is discreet and unmarked. The place is clean and the rooms are private. There's a table shower and pretty much everything a joint like this is supposed to have.
I was greeted by Nana, a fortyish Korean lady who is really nothing special to look at but has a great personality and is exceptionally eager to please. I gave her the house fee of 80 bucks and got undressed. Nana's a fun and friendly woman but if the usual array of fake oohs and ahhs offends you, shop elsewhere. I don't mind. That sort of thing almost reminds me of the sounds of a believer consumed by the rapture. Bring it on, vengeful god!
Down the hall she led me to the table shower, where she donned the rubber boots and had me lay down.
At this stage I noticed two things:
One: the same Korean-language Christian music that I heard at Yuki was blaring through the place. Clearly I had come to the right place for a spiritual awakening.
Two: Nana takes genital cleanliness seriously. She practically gave me a soapy jack off with her enthusiastic rubbing of my cock. I would venture to guess that I've never gotten quite so hard during a table shower, nor has my cock ever been quite so clean. That's some serious attention to detail.
Back at the massage table, Nana popped a mint into her mouth and offered me one, which I graciously accepted. I'm pretty solid in the oral hygiene department but in these after-lunch engagements, well, you can never smell too fresh, I say. Besides, it felt kind of like receiving communion. Thank you, Reverend Nana, for the body and blood of the Lord!
She asked me what kind of massage I wanted. This is the point at which I usually say "strong" or "hard" because that's what I like. But this time...hell, I didn't give a shit. I was horny, I was hard, I wanted to get my rocks off with an Old Testament urgency. So I said "Baby, I just want your hands on me right now."
She obliged by immediately pulling the top of her dress down and the bottom of it up. She ran her little A cup tits down my back and ran her fingertips up it. She rubbed my ass...she kissed my ass...she licked my ass. Remaining face down was becoming a challenge.
With a semi-toneless Korean choir braying "Onward Christian Soldiers" in my ears I growled a little and turned over. Nana's a sharp lady and she grabbed my cock and started jacking it immediately. I had gotten laid the day before, mind you, so I knew it was going to be a chore for her to get me off, but I figured I'd tip excessively and make it worth her chronic arm pain. In any event, I knew that Christian work ethic would kick in and she'd finish the job.
She added some oil and kept working on it and then she surprised me by climbing up on the table, pulling her panties down, and sitting on my face. Well that's always a happy addition to the routine and I ate her nice clean pussy for a while and her silly oohs and ahhs reached new decibel levels. In fact, for a minute there it almost seemed like she'd drown out the First Church of Painful Tone Deaf Baptist Ritual Choir's version of "What A Friend We Have In Jesus."
Every good surprise deserves reciprocity, of course, so I decided to surprise Nana in return, and I stuck my tongue in her ass and rimmed her for a solid couple of minutes, producing ever-widening oohs and rising ahhs. Had she seen God? Not nearly. This girl's a professional. But I was looking skyward for a sign from the heavens and was fully prepared to accept whatever God was dealing.
Not to be outdone, she surprised me right back by leaning over and licking my cock and balls prodigiously while continuing to jack me off. Sneaky, isn't she?
Well little did she know I had one last trick up my...well, not my sleeve exactly but let's not fuck with mixed metaphors. Rather conveniently, the choir turned to page 43 in the Bleeding Eardrum Hymnal and launched into "Nearer My God To Thee" at which point I took the Lord's name in vain and blasted a sticky load on Nana's face and hair that I am certain will benefit her youthful complexion for years to come.
Basking in the glow of God's obvious musical approval, I joyously dressed and handed her an utterly excessive 80 buck tip before adjusting my hat and heading on my merry way. Charity, after all, begins at the massage parlor.
Thank you Jesus, thank you Lord. Thus endeth the lesson.